


Hollow Chests

by TheMadHatterOfficial



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, GOD NO SLASH, Geralt has a savior complex fight me, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, No Slash, dad!Geralt, i really don't know how to tag this, kid!jaskier, not beta'd so FUCK YOU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadHatterOfficial/pseuds/TheMadHatterOfficial
Summary: The Law of Surprise was a sacred and ancient law. It was as old as humanity itself, and it was a well-known fact that it was not one of those things to be taken lightly.Geralt of Rivia did NOT get the memo. (He didn't mean to become a parent.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

“I claim the Law of Surprise.”

The hush that fell over the room was an instant thing, heavy as it fell upon the estate. Geralt could feel the magic hook into his chest, turning his blood thick and leaving him short of breath.

(Perhaps claiming the Law wasn’t such a good idea. Geralt would realize this, but still wouldn’t learn his lesson for many - _many_ \- years to come.)

“No.”

Brow arched and lip curled, Geralt turned to the Lord before him. (Was he even a Lord? Geralt didn’t care to remember as long as he was paid.) The man was ashen, shaking in his bejeweled robes and long brown hair swishing. His eyes darted around the room, trying to settle on the witcher but falling away in fear. Always fear.

One of the daughters sat at the high table. Impartial and uncaring, her rings tap tap tapping away upon her silver goblet.

“Oh, _please-_ ”

“No. You can’t. I _forbid_ it.”

Geralt only just resisted rolling his eyes, instead settling for an irritated and slightly amused hum.

What was the big deal anyway? Truly? Was this mousey little man so scared to lose a crop or two? Perhaps a chest, or a hunting dog or

The lord’s wife buckled at the knees. Her chest heaved, thick bile the color of sludge piling on the floor and soaking her gown.

Her hand clutched low on her stomach.

“Fuck.”

Needless to say, Geralt couldn’t get away from Lettenhove any faster if he tried.

* * *

Years later found Geralt of Rivia in Kerack once more. It was nothing new, he’d been through once or twice after his ‘uh-oh’ moment at the Viscount’s home.

But, like then, he finds a contract.

He remembers the little lake that ran off from the sea. According to the advertisement, there was a cove of sirens that had relocated back into Lettenhove.

And, well, the price the Viscount put out was hardly a detriment.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Viscount Pankratz’s eldest was the exact same as Geralt remembered her. A little older, her hair now touching her waist and decorated with jewels and seashells, lips flat and unamused as she tap tap tapped away.

In fact, there was hardly any difference from Geralt’s ill-fated visit nearly seven years prior. The curtains were the same dark emerald, the hanging chandeliers hanging just this side of too low, even the window in the back corner that was just ever so creaky as the wind slapped against it.

“Well. Witcher.”

Geralt’s attention unfortunately fell back on Viscount Pankratz. They set across from each other at a great oak table, Geralt alone with several seats on either side of him, the Viscount and Lady flanked by three daughters on either side.

The youngest of the girls’ could be no younger than a teen.

(Geralt very deliberately did not think about the child.)

“Hmm.”

“That… thing. The bitches that screech and howl, that you dealt with before.”

“Sirens.”

“Yes. Those.” Pankratz’s fingers curled and he sniffed imperiously. It was a wonder he could breathe, his face as flat and pressed as it was. “They have returned.”

Geralt nodded.

“You remember, then? How to rid of them.”

“Hm.”

There’s a little huff, and Geralt’s eyes track around the room until they land on one of the doorways. He sees bright, luminescent eyes peering out onto the scene around them.

“Excellent!” He clapped his hands together jubilantly and lifted his goblet. “The same price?”

“It will do.”

“Aha! Easiest negotiation I’ve had.” He tilts his goblet to Geralt and grins a bit too sharply for Geralt’s liking. “To your health and prosperity, witcher.”

Geralt inclines his head back.

His eyes catch on the curtain just as little feet scamper away from the dining room.

* * *

“Hello!”

Only just resisting to urge to jump, Geralt slowly turned his head from where it laid on his bedroll. His hair, matted with that of the banshees’, tugged uncomfortably at his scalp as he found himself nose-to-nose with a small child.

He was still just a babe, quite small and soft with big blue eyes and a bright grin tearing at his lips in a way that had to be painful. The boy giggled, bright and airy and his breath making Geralt’s eyes blink impulsively.

“Hm.”

Sitting up, the boy began to sway forward, almost falling into Geralt before dancing back. He laughed again and Geralt scowled.

“Did you sleep outside?”

“Hm.”

“That’s not very safe. There are monsters out here. You have to be _careful_ , they’ll make your brain melt and goosh out of your _ears_!”

“Hm.”

“Yeah. I know, right? Everyone’s always saying ‘oh, Julian, stay inside,’ ‘Julian, don’t go in the woods,’ ‘don’t play along the fairy edge Julian! _Beasts walketh among us as roaring lions and lying whores, Julian_ !’ That’s my name, by the way. Julian. Personally, _I’m_ not scared of monsters. I’m not scared of _anything_ ! Except maybe bees. I’m a little scared of bees, but only because I’m allergic! If a bee stings me, I’ll _die_ . Poof! Then no one will be able to listen to me sing ever again. _Oh_ ! I’m a _really_ good singer, I’m gonna be famous one day! Do you wanna hear? Wanna hear me sing?!”

“No.”

“Oh.” The boy - Julian - finally took a breath, his little chest heaving a bit as he watched Geralt stomping out the remains of the night’s campfire and lifting up his packed bedroll and supplies. “Well, that’s alright! No one really likes listening to me anyway. Are you going back to town?”

“Hm.”

“Yeah. I should probably get back, too. Father will be very cross with me for running off.”

Luckily, Geralt didn’t need to prompt Julian to follow as the boy jumped up to follow. He ran the few paces difference between them, crashing into Geralt’s side and clutching onto his wrist as he began to babble away again about one thing or another.

And something…

Something settled, within Geralt, as young Julian held onto him into town. Something deep and heavy, like an age-old cough finally dissolving and leaving him free to breathe.

* * *

Somewhere, so far and yet so close, Destiny grinned a Cheshire grin.

* * *

Julian drifted away on the way into town and Geralt had to refrain from gripping his little hand tighter to keep him close. Though it was clear he knew where he was, Geralt couldn’t help the tiny spark of worry at the idea of such a small child all alone.

Roach was good, as always. She nickered and nudged Geralt’s cheek gently as they set off towards the Viscount’s estate for his coin.

Midday and the Viscount should have been expecting him. Geralt left Roach tied to a post just off the side to the doors and the guards let him pass as he made his way up to the study.

“You pathetic _whelp_ ! How _dare_ you continue to disobey me! I ought-”

There was a resounding _crack_ and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor. Geralt’s steps hardly faltered before entering through the open door of the study.

The Viscount’s face was a putrid red, splotchy purple with spittle hanging from his lips. His eyes darted up at Geralt’s entrance before he straightened, shaking out his hand and sighing. “Ah. Witcher. Dealt with our problem, yes?”

“Hm. They’re dealt with.”

“Excellent! Now, your payment.”

As the Viscount made his way around towards the desk, Geralt finally let himself fully assess the room. His eyes drifted, roaming from the desk to the carpet, all around the darkened corners and cabinets before finally falling on the fallen body.

On Julian.

The boy was snivelling pathetically, his lip quivering and hand shaking as it reached to swipe at the tears that were still falling. Geralt’s hands began to shake as Julian swiped at the small torrent of blood pouring from his split eyebrow. He could hear Julian’s heart rate pick up, hear the tiny little whimpers he couldn’t hold back as he struggled to his feet.

“ _Boy_!”

Julian flinched as he turned to the Viscount, standing tall as he shrunk further into himself.

“Stay where you are. We are not finished.”

The _stench_ . The scent of fear rolling off of Julian was indescribable, thick and suffocating and _vile_. Geralt could smell the blood on the boy, could almost taste it on his lips.

These were the worst types of humans. The ones who used their superiority to take advantage of others, to hurt children ( _baby_ , Geralt thought, _Julian was a_ **_baby_ **) and leave them cowering at their feet.

All the pieces had begun to slot together. How could they not?

“Forget it.”

A pause, then the Viscount turned on his heel. Geralt didn’t tear his gaze from Julian, from his hands knotting themselves together and his feet shifting his weight ever so carefully. Testing for any hurts.

It seemed to be an experienced habit.

“And walk out of here empty handed? That’s not how your kind work.” The Viscount and his son shared the same color of eyes. But where Julian’s had been bright and lively, the Viscount’s seemed to be permanently drawn into a long scowl, turning dark and flinty. They narrowed now, appraising Geralt from head to toe and back up again. “What do you want?”

Some monsters, Geralt had learned over the years, were not as beastly as one imagined them to be. Sometimes monsters were men, nails sharp as claws as they tore at a young girl’s thighs, or women with honeyed words that hollowed out their husband’s chests until they collapsed in on themselves.

There were too many monsters in this world.

And who was a witcher to be, if not a slayer of these demons? What purpose do they serve in this world, on this earth, other than to kill the beast to set the people free?

Who would Geralt be, or better yet, how could he live with himself if he left the boy here, to wither away alone and broken in this big empty manor on the hill?

“I claim my Child Surprise.”

* * *

Julian is not nearly as chatty as he was once they set off.

At the moment, Geralt is too preoccupied with getting the fuck out of Lettenhove to be able to deal with Julian’s injuries. Instead he throws him on Roach’s back, climbing in front and riding off as quickly as Roach can possibly maintain.

He still stinks of fear. Geralt’s not surprised. It’s one thing for a child to ponder over the gold of his eyes or the swords on his back, but another one completely to be forced to be near a witcher, to be near the monster that parents tell their children about at night.

(Especially one who’d just effectively kidnapped said child from the only life they’d ever known.)

Hours later, with little Julian’s hands slipping off the sides of Geralt’s armor and his shifting discomfort growing, Geralt decides to make camp. It’s earlier than he would’ve liked, but elephe decides that he can make an exception this once.

“Can- hm.” Geralt slips down from the saddle and turns to Julian. “Down.”

Julian flinches and stares down with wide eyes. Geralt’s tempted to smack himself right cross the face.

His words always come out too gruff. Witchers were hardly educated in matters of diplomacy, let alone how to comfort small children. What Geralt would give to be able to do so at the moment.

“I mean. Mm. Would you like help down?”

Julian hesitated. His hands clenched in his tiny green doublet before giving a hesitant nod and holding his arms out.

Geralt, having a moment of sheer panic - _where do I put my hands?_ \- lifts Julian from the saddle under the arms and sets him on his feet. Julian stumbles a bit, getting his bearings, before looking up at Geralt with what can only be described as an utterly _lost_ look glistening brightly.

The blood is caked in Julian’s eyelashes.

“Sit on the log,” Geralt tries to say gently.

When Geralt grabs his aid kit and turns Julian is sitting stiffly on the log with his hands folded in his lap. With hardly a second thought, Geralt grabs his canteen and moves to kneel down in front of Julian. He hands him the water. “Drink.”

Julian takes the canteen and takes a hesitant sip under Geralt’s watchful eye. Half of it’s gone when Julian finally takes a breath and he hands it back. “Thank you,” he murmurs gently.

 _He’ll need his own flask,_ Geralt thinks distantly. _And clothes. And shoes. And socks. And a bedroll. And a toothbrush. And_

“I… I am going to clean your cut now. It may sting, but…”

Geralt doesn’t even finish his thought, unable to find the right words to comfort Julian. He thinks of what he was told as a child, that _pain is a necessary means to an end_ , but he cannot find it in his heart to say so to a child who’d already known far too much senseless cruelty in his very short life.

Julian still flinches when the wet cloth touches his cheek, even more so when it creeps up closer to the actual wound. Under the caked up blood there’s a mighty bruise already forming high on his cheekbone, a little nick from what must’ve been one of Viscount Pankratz’s rings sitting under his eye.

There’s also blood in Julian’s hair. Geralt pours a bit of water over it and attempts to gently scrub the worst of it out.

When he gets close to his temple, Geralt pushes it aside and behind an ear.

A tiny, bright red ear, that points high heavenwards.

Julian doesn’t react when Geralt sees it. Geralt breaths in and touches it gently. It’s not nearly as pointed as a full-blood elf’s ear, in fact many people might just disregard it without a second thought. But it was clear enough to any witcher, to any of those who make it a mission to continue their so-called ‘cleansing.’

Julian’s eyes burned a bright, an electric blue reminiscent of winter storms and icy mountaintops.

Geralt pushed the hair back over Julian’s ear.

The cut, thankfully, doesn’t need stitches. Julian holds remarkably still as Geralt cleans his wounds and bandages them shut. When he’s done, Geralt packs away the kit and moves towards Roach and his bags.

“Thank you,” Julian says again, louder than the last time.

“Hm.” Geralt takes the bags and drops them near the log. He begins to push together a couple rocks into a circle, throwing in stray twigs or branches here and there.

When Julian stands and begins to move, Geralt takes care not to acknowledge it. He continues in his tasks and lets Julian trail behind him like a little shadow. He eventually starts contributing to the pile as well.

It’s just beginning to get dark when Geralt deems the pit decent. Julian looks up at Geralt with those _eyes_ , and Geralt is hard pressed not to melt right then and there. “Done?”

“Done,” Geralt affirms. He tried to smile, he _really does_ , but Geralt knows it comes out as a sort of half-grimace instead. “Good job.”

And Julian-

Julian absolutely _beams_.

“I’m a good stick collector, huh?”

“Yes.”

“One of the best?”

“Yes.”

“In the whole entire world?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m old.”

“How old?”

“Very.”

“Oh. Is that why you got white hair? ‘Cause you’re really super extra old?”

“No.”

“Then why do you got white hair?”

“I’m a witcher.”

“ _Ooooooohh_. That makes sense.”

Geralt takes that as evidence enough that Julian had known he was a witcher. Whether it was someone in town, or his father, Geralt couldn’t be sure.

At least he didn’t seem too terrified by the fact. Some children were like that. Too young to know what was good and bad, and what lurked in the forest or under their bed.

“That why you got yellow eyes too? ‘Cause you’re a witch?”

“Witch _er._ And yes.”

“Witch _er._ ”

“Hm.”

There was a bit of a lull as Geralt knelt by the fire. He glanced towards Julian, staring wide eyed at Geralt with a bit of a stiffness to him. He wasn’t nearly as close as he had been when they’d met the first time, his eyes shifting over and over from Geralt’s eyes, to his hands, to his swords, and ‘round again.

“I won’t- hm.” Geralt turned more fully, his face nearly level with Julian’s. “The road is no place for a child. I know a family, and they have wanted a son for some time.”

“O _kayyyyy_ …”

Geralt thought of the young couple he’d met several springs ago as he left the Keep for the new year. The small town right at Kaedwen’s border at the base of the mountain, already blessed with two daughters but still longing for their boy. They’d shown him kindness on more than one occasion, offering him a bed and meal when he tired from his hunt.

He thought of the two young women, widowed and divorced from their husbands with a daughter each. Geralt remembered the gentleness in their hands and hearts, their love for each other and their children fierce and bright as any light on the continent.

Julian deserved that kind of life.

“They don’t have the wealth you come from, or grand feasts and silk sheets. But they are good.”

“And you’re…” Julian’s head tilted and his eyes squinted a bit in the growing darkness. “You’re giving me to them?”

Geralt doesn’t deign that with an answer, instead flicking his hand out towards the pile in a quick sign before it ignites.

“You have magic?!”

Julian stares, wide eyed as Geralt grunts and moves around the fire. He pulls out what is leftover from the last town, splitting the bread and dried bits of meat between them.

When the sun has finished setting, Geralt begins to usher Julian to the bedroll. He removes his shoes and Julian still eyes Geralt warily as he does his best to tuck the blankets around Julian as best he could.

They’re quiet, and when Geralt deems it satisfactory, he sits back on his heels. Geralt struggles to find the correct words, what parents and guardians say to their young charges. He tries to remember his own childhood, if anyone had ever tucked him in, but all he has memory of is a hazy outline of fire-bright hair and slim hands brushing through his hair.

Geralt lifts a hand and lowers it gently to the side of Julian’s head. He holds it there and gives a slight nod. “Sleep well.”

Julian nods.

That night, Geralt finally nods off to the steady thumping of Julian’s heartbeat.

* * *

In the morning, Geralt lets Julian sleep a bit longer than he probably should’ve.

It’s cold, a reminder of winter approaching soon enough, and Geralt plans ahead for their trip from Kerack to Aedirn. He takes a moment to tuck his cloak around Julian a bit tighter before taking down the camp.

Eventually, the sun rises. Geralt has already tacked everything onto Roach, leaving only his roll and its still sleeping occupant.

Geralt’s hand is light on Julian’s shoulder when he shakes him. Julian shuffles, sniffing a bit in sleep before pulling the covers around him higher.

They needed to get on while there was daylight, but Geralt found himself hesitating to truly wake Julian. He’d been stumbling around at the end of the night, his heart finally slowing from it’s frantic tune it’d been caught in all day. And now, seeing him calm and comfortable…

Packing up the bedroll was a fair amount more difficult with the dead weight of a sleeping six year old in one arm, but Geralt managed. In the end, he used a blanket to swaddle Julian to his chest in a way not dissimilar to how he’d seen mothers do with their small babes. They’d just need to stop later on to break their fast so that Julian wouldn’t go hungry on the road.

As they travelled, Geralt noted what Julian would need until they reached his new home. He was wearing good boots when they fled, sturdy and warm for the coming winter, though his clothes were the flashy, flimsy type that nobility was so fond of. Julian was decent for now, wrapped in one of Geralt’s tunics and his cloak on top of what he was already wearing. But that would soon change. Especially since they were travelling northwards.

By some grace, Julian didn’t wake until nearly noon. Perhaps it had been the gentle rocking of Roach’s gait that kept him sleeping. Or the way he was strapped and cradled oh so gently in Geralt’s arms. (He couldn’t have a sleeping child ride behind him, and having him sit in front was far too crowded and too much trouble to keep track of.)

His heartbeat sped up, but Geralt remained quiet and let Julian set his berrings. He shuffled a bit and pressed the tip of his cold and runny nose against Geralt’s collarbone.

“Good morning.”

Geralt merely hummed, one hand absentmindedly coming up to smooth down Julian’s back.

Julian yawned and breathed across Geralt’s neck in sharp little huffs. He hummed a little tune as he did so, some childhood ditty that was popular among Kerackian children.

Nearly half of an hour passed in relative quiet. There was the thumping of Roach’s hooves and the rustle of leaves along the sides of the road. At one point a cart passed by, it’s hinges creaking and the ox pulling it moaning, and one of Julian’s hands lifted from where it was tapping a slow rhythm on Geralt’s back in order to wave to the driver. The man in question threw them a slightly guarded, curious glance before turning to mind his own way.

“Dunno.”

Geralt looked down, seeing Julian’s bright eyes staring back up at him. Even in the cold, dry air, they still had the same watery sheen to them as the day before. Geralt smelt no distress on the boy, so it was safe to assume that’s just how they _were_.

And there was so _much_ in those eyes.

“What.”

“I dunno your name, weird nice kidnapper.”

“Mm. Geralt.” Geralt couldn’t help but roll his eyes and sigh. “And I didn’t kidnap you.”

“Um. Yes? You kidnapped me.” Julian’s hand trailed up from Geralt’s back, catching at the ends of his hair. He didn’t yank, like children were prone to do, just lightly held on with sticky fingers. He put his head back on Geralt’s chest. “S’okay, though. You’re the good type of kidnapper.”

“There _aren’t-_ Melitele help me.”

Julian’s other hand began tapping against Geralt’s shoulder. _Tap tap tap_ **_tap, tap, tap_ ** _. Tap tap tap_ **_tap, tap, tap_ ** _._

“Geralt?”

“Mm.”

“I gotta go.”

It took a few moments to comprehend exactly what Julian needed, but soon Geralt was pulling Roach to the side of the road and through the woods a bit. They got to a clearing, Geralt ushering Julian a further in to take care of himself before taking out the food they had left over.

It was closer to lunchtime now, and in a few hours they’d stop again to camp. Geralt regretted so many nights in the woods with a small child, but there was nothing to be done about that now. Besides, by tomorrow they’d reach the next town and they could rent a room there.

“Done!”

Geralt nodded and set out their food on a blanket between them. He took a cloth from his bag, scrubbed a bit of lye onto it and cleaned up Julian’s hands as best he could. He ran a bit of water over them to finish off and Julian clapped his damp hands together after, giggling brightly and bouncing in place where he sat. “Thank you!”

With a firm nod, Geralt knelt down and handed Julian a roll and some dried meat before turning to care for Roach. He untangled a bit of her mane that tangled and fed her a handful of oats he’d acquired in Lettenhove.

Julian made more of those little humming noises as he ate, bits and pieces of different ditties. Some Geralt recognized, most of them he didn’t. He was reminded of their first meeting in the woods, and his chest constricted a bit when he imagined Julian doing so again, this time with someone a bit less forgiving or unwilling to let him leave.

He seemed naive. He was young yet, so that was to be expected, but the eagerness in his eyes didn’t seem like it would bode well in the future.

“What’s the horsie’s name, Geralt?”

Roach snorted, as if she knew what they were talking about, and Geralt turned to where Julian still sat on the blanket. He pushed down on his folded knees, rocking forward and back as his eyes darted between Geralt and his horse.

“Roach,” Geralt finally answered.

“Like the bug?”

“No. Like the fish.”

“ _There’s bug fishes_?!”

“No.”

Julian made what could only be described as a squawk, like a little bird, and his arms flailed around in an absolute _outrage_ . “You just _said-_!”

“The bug and the fish are different. They just have the same name.”

“ _How is that even real_?”

Geralt took a deep, steadying breath before pulling on whatever reservoir of patience he could still access. He turned to the boy in front of him, Julian’s face red and flush and tiny fists manically pulling at his hair. “A bat is an animal.”

“I don’t like bats.”

“That’s not the point, Julian.”

“Okay.”

“A bat is an animal.”

“Yes.”

“And there are _bats_. As in the stick you play sport with.”

“Yes.”

“It’s like that. Same name, different things.”

At least now, Julian seemed to have calmed from his minor existential crisis. He took a deep breath and fell back, nodding to himself and humming.

Geralt had spoken more in the past day than he had in the past _year_. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, from caring for his new charge. He put a hand on Roach’s side, his forehead pressed to hers as he took a moment to gather himself.

It was so _much_ . So much noise, so much touch, _just…_ it wasn’t something Geralt had ever dealt with, nor expected to deal with. His skin was raw to the touch and there was a buzzing in the back of Geralt’s head that hadn’t ceased since arriving back at the Pankratz Estate.

What Geralt would give for a moment-

There was a little tug at the hem of Geralt’s tunic. Geralt just barely held back a flinch as he pulled back from Roach to look down beside him.

Julian was staring up at him, eyes a little more glassy than usual as he struggled to meet Geralt’s gaze. His brow was pinched and he held tightly to Geralt’s canister of water before holding it up for him to take.

Geralt took it in hand, staring a bit longer than where Julian was still holding his shirt. He took a swig from the container before strapping it to his side.

“Sorry,” Julian whispered meekly. Before Geralt could wonder what Julian was apologizing for, he finished in a murmured rush, “I can be quiet now. Quiet as _mouses_. Promise.”

And Geralt-

Julian’s hand dropped and he moved away towards Roach’s head. He reached up, letting Roach nuzzle his palm and running a hand up her snout.

Usually Geralt would snap at anyone who tried to touch Roach. But Roach seemed to actually be fond of Julian, already pushing at his cheek and attempted to nibble at his tangled curls.

_I should brush his hair. And give it a wash, at that._

“Don’t- hm.” Geralt forced his feet forward, trudging on to join Julian at Roach’s head. “Don’t apologize for making noise.”

“But I’m _annoying_ ,” Julian emphasized, as if it explained everything. “An annoying little _shit_ who-”

“No, you’re not.” Geralt raised a hand, hesitating as Julian leaned away as far as he could without actually moving. He put his hand down. “You’re a child. Children make noise. Don’t be sorry.”

Julian was still quiet, and already Geralt felt wrong. There’d been so much constant noise, even as Julian slept he still snuffled against Geralt’s neck and made little sounds as he shifted, that the air was empty with it gone. Julian was making such an effort to be quiet, to not upset Geralt, that it made his teeth vibrate with the _wrongness_ of it.

“Sure?” Julian finally whispered.

“Mm. Positive.”

“What’s ‘positive’?”

“It’s sure.”

“And you’re positive?”

“Yes. I’m positive.”

“Okay. Good.”

Geralt moved towards the set up and packed away what was left. Julian began to hum again, one of those childrens’ songs that you can change the name for, murmuring over and over, _“Roachie Roachie Roachie fair, tell me friend how to braid your chestnut hair, Roachie Roachie Roachie…”_

It was heartbreakingly endearing.

“You were right,” Geralt finally said in a gruff tone.

“About what?”

“When you said that you were a good singer.”

Julian made a sharp gasping noise, his head whipping around as he stared at Geralt in wide-eyed shock. Geralt tacked on his bags and took his cloak in hand once more. He moved back to Julian and bundled him in, making sure Geralt’s spare tunic was still on his shoulders. “ _Thank you!_ I practice _so_ much, _so so_ much. I wanna learn how to play instruments too, but I’m too little right now.”

“Mm.”

Julian’s cheeks were red and cool, despite it being midday still. The tip of his nose matched, bright and runny as he sniffed sharply.

“Josette - that’s my sister - used to always tell me to be quiet, ‘cause Mother and Father didn’t like noise.”

“Mm.”

Julian was skinny, too. His shoulders bowed under the weight of Geralt’s heavy woolen cloak and his wrists were like twigs where Geralt held them to feel his heartbeat.

“I still did it though. I need to be good to be famous. Sometimes I’d be too loud and Jemma would yell at me through the wall.”

“Mm.”

His ears were bright red too. It looked like a cap would also be in Julian’s future. They could probably find one in a second hand store or shop, just to save a bit of extra coin. He’d have to check for lice, but even then, that was an easy fix.

“And if I get too loud or annoying, you can just smack me.”

Geralt’s hands faltered on the clasp at Julian’s neck.

“Or if I’m _really_ bad, you can use a belt or a cane. I don’t learn very well otherwise.”

For the longest breath, neither of them said anything. Geralt’s eyes caught somewhere over Julian’s shoulder, hands lightly holding onto his arms.

Julian didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, instead choosing to pop his lips a couple times and to reach up and brush his fingertips down Geralt’s cheeks. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against the rough stubble on his jawline and giggled brightly. “You’re prickly,” Julian whispered before grabbing at Geralt’s hair once more.

“I’m not going to hit you.”

Julian’s brows pulled together, his fingers tugging ever so gently on the ends of Geralt’s hair. “O _kaaay_ , but, what if I deserve it?”

“You won’t. You never have.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“Because no child deserves to be hit. Ever.”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Julian-”

“Then why do they get hit?”

Geralt resisted the urge to snap at Julian, desperate to make him understand. But he was still so young yet. Too young to be having this conversation, let alone comprehend what had happened before and what was happening moving forward.

“It’s- hm.” Geralt let Julian continue to play with his hair. His breath was coming in huffs, nose scrunched high as his eyes flickered across Geralt’s face with rapid speed. “There are bad people out there. Very bad. And they like to hurt people.”

“And kids?”

“And kids,” Geralt confirmed gently. Or as gently as he could manage. Geralt doubted it came out as he meant it, but Julian nodded along anyway.

“And… and my mother and father.”

“Hm?”

“They’re bad? ‘Cause they hit me n stuff?”

It was getting late. Geralt knew they’d have to move swiftly if they wanted to escape winter’s clutches, especially since they needed to arrive at the small home at the base of the mountains to deliver Julian to his new home.

In lieu of answering, Geralt took Julian under his arms and hoisted him onto Roach. He swung up in front of him and began to lead Roach back to the road.

Julian tapped a slow beat on Geralt’s chest.

* * *

Weeks pass in a similar manner.

Julian begins to speak more and more, eventually becoming more like the boy who accosted Geralt in the forest during their first meeting.

Geralt has found himself sleeping in inns more frequently than he ever has in his life. Rarely do they find themselves in the woods, especially since Geralt jolts awake more often than not when Julian’s heart slows too much for Geralt’s comfort.

As they begin to interact with the public more and more, Geralt finds himself a bit more paranoid when it comes to Julian’s appearance. He’s noticed himself developing little ticks when it comes to Julian, a prominent one being when he smooths down his hair over his ears. Julian doesn’t seem to mind, even leaning into it more often than not.

Over time, he’s also become more and more aware of Julian’s less noticeably elven aspects. He remembered pausing the first night he helped Julian brush his teeth, perfectly straight, flat, and blindingly white despite not brushing for a few days. When he became cold, his nose and cheeks were never blotchy, instead being bright and rosy and in a much more conventionally attractive way. Even his voice, and his loud and obnoxious laughter, sounded much too close to a tinkling little bell than what Geralt was comfortable with.

He’s sure that Julian doesn’t comprehend what he is. He refers to himself as a human, especially when talking about the differences between his species and Geralt’s, and shows no hints that he understands what elves really are. One of their more lively nights found Julian staring at his ears in a mirror and pulling their point up, then doing the same to Geralt’s rounded ear and giggling manically every time it fell back into its original shape.

“I see it!”

Geralt grunted in acknowledgement as he and Julian rode into the newest town. It was only midday, but they’d been riding for longer than they normally would so they wouldn’t have to sleep outside, so Geralt decided an early rest would perhaps be best.

Before they headed in, Geralt took out the cap and Julian whined. “I _hate_ the hat.”

“You need the hat. Never let people see you without the hat.”

After handing Roach over to a stablehand and throwing their bags over his shoulder they make their way to get a room. Julien is holding one of Geralt’s hands and bouncing next to him, rambling on about how in his dream last night he was singing on a cloud with angels about icicles and red flavored candy.

( _“Red isn’t a flavor, Julian.” “Yes it is.” “No, it’s not.” “Then why do all red candy taste the same?” “I-” “Can’t answer that, can you?” “Ju-” “Exactly.”_ )

The inn is warm and quiet when they enter. There’s a bar and a sitting room on the ground floor with squeaky floorboards and no less than four fireplaces scattered haphazardly along the walls. There’s a small family of three at one of the tables and a man passed out behind the counter.

As they walk closer, Julian’s mindless prattle filling the space, Geralt spots someone else at the desk. She’s a bit older, gray streaking through her dark hair and heavy bags beneath her eyes. He sets their things down and her brows pull together when she spots Geralt, and he sees her immediately clock him as a witcher.

Geralt gets ready to be thrown on his ass. He’s seen that look too many times to count, even when travelling with Julian. He grips Julian’s hand in his and tugs him closer, more than ready to fight someone when they inevitably try to ‘save’ him from the evil witcher’s clutches.

But then her eyes fall to Julian, now quiet and wide eyed beside Geralt.

There’s a moment where no one says anything. The keeper looks from Geralt to Julian and back to Geralt, scrutinizing and harsh. Her hands twitch, and Geralt feels Julian wrap his arms ‘round his waist.

The man behind her snores.

“Well,” the woman finally says, “a room, I s’ppose?”

Geralt grunts an affirmation as Julian begins to yank on the hem of his shirt. Without a second thought Geralt sweeps him onto a cocked hip and lets his head rest on his shoulder with a quiet _whumf_ of breath. “Two beds, if you have it.”

Her eyes squint at the two of them before turning to the wall of keys behind her. “45 coppers fer a night.”

Noticeably lower than many places. Geralt’s eyebrow raises and the woman stares back impassively. “Life on tha road be hard fer e’ryone, witch’r. ‘Specially witha little ‘un.”

He nods again and hums. As he reaches to his purse for payment Julian huffs and his hand smacks Geralt’s chest, close to the neck. “I’m not _little_ . I’m _six_.”

Geralt snorts and shakes his head a bit. The woman has a little smile hedging at her mouth and tips her head. “‘Pologies then, good sir.”

“It’s okay! Everyone makes mistakes! That’s what Geralt says.”

“Well, many thanks fer yer good nature, then.” Then, to Geralt, “Sec’nd floor, room 18 on tha left.

Geralt sets down his coin and takes the key. The woman is still smiling as Geralt picks up their bags and makes his way upstairs, Julian still on his side.

“Bye-bye,” Julian says loudly.

“Bye,” Geralt hears the woman murmur quietly.

When they get to the room Geralt tosses Julian down on the larger of the two beds. Julian starts his wild giggling again as he bounces and Geralt tries to bite down a grin.

He fails.

“I’m hungry.”

“We’ll get something shortly.”

“Okay.” A pause, then, “I’m bored.”

Geralt sets their stuff down and lights the fireplace with a quick sign. Julian doesn’t find it as fascinating as he had the first time Geralt did it. Or the fifteen times after. But he still squeaks and rolls up onto his knees. “Tired?” Geralt asks.

“Mm-mm. Nope. Not. At. _All_.”

Geralt knows a lie when he hears it, especially since Julian was nodding off on Roach and downstairs. Even now, Geralt watches as he stifles a yawn.

Geralt gives a little push to Julian’s shoulder and he lets himself fall on his bum. Geralt sits beside him and begins to unlace the boots he bought in the first town they stopped in.

“Liar.”

“Not a liar, Geralt!”

“Li- _ar._ ”

“Geralt!”

The boots are tossed onto the ground and Geralt pulls back the top sheets. Julian squirms and shoves, but Geralt manages to get him under and gently pin his arms to his chest. “Sleep.”

Julian cranes his neck out, jutting his chin up until his face is in Geralt’s. “No.”

Geralt whipped the hat off and tossed it aside. “Sleep.”

“I’m not tired!”

“Then a nap. A short one.”

“I’m not a _baby_. I don’t need a nap.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and moves a hand up towards Julian’s hair. He brushes his fingers through the deflated ringlets and begins to methodically comb through them as he’s done for weeks now.

As expected, Julian immediately sinks into the mattress.

“Maybe… maybe a little tired.”

“Mm.”

A few minutes later, Julian finally drops off into sleep and Geralt is able to stand and move away. Julian rolls over and sighs.

Geralt runs a careful hand down Julian’s back and quietly makes his way back downstairs.

There’s a few more people there, but it’s still quiet. Geralt walks up to the bar and catches the eye of the girl tending to the customers. She stares at him, her heart rate spiking and the acrid scent of fear making itself known, before slowly ambling over.

Two of the men there stare.

“Can… can I help you, Master Witcher?”

The woman who gave Geralt the room tenses and stares like a hawk.

Geralt belatedly sees the girl’s wide belly and her hand cupping it protectively. He hums and nods. “A meal, for myself and my… charge.”

“We- we have, um, stew? But the next batch won’t…” she stumbles over her words and her hands shake. “It won’t be done for another two hours.”

It wasn’t like Julian was awake enough to miss it.

Geralt nodded once more and leaned back. “When it’s done, then.”

“I can have one of the boys take it to your room?”

“Hm.”

He hears the whole room let loose a collective sigh when Geralt makes to turn back towards the stairs.

“Witcher.”

One of the men at the bar calls out and Geralt turns back on his heel.

He’s a bit on the older side, clothes finer than anyone else in the room and his long inky hair hanging in long locs around his shoulders. He beacons Geralt closer.

Geralt holds back a groan and ambles over. The man motions for some drinks and turns back towards him.

There’s little bits of metal twisted into his hair. The sunlight streams through one of the windows and bounces off of them brightly.

“That little boy you came in with.”

Geralt hears the question in there. He elects not to answer.

The man shifts a bit uncomfortably. “I thought witchers were unable to have children.”

For a bit neither of them speak. A boy comes from the counter and sets down their drinks.

“He’s not mine,” Geralt finally answers. “I’m delivering him to his adoptive family.”

“Ah!” The man takes a short sip from his drink. “A noble task.”

“What do you want?”

“I have a job. Well. My father has a job for you.”

Geralt nods.

“I am Erald, and my father is the Lord of this town. There are these… creatures, in our nearby lake. They have resided there for over a decade, and we’ve simply ignored them for this long. But recently a few boys were running around, and one of them was killed. Then a few days later, six men - including the boy’s father - tried to get rid of them. They all died.”

Erald sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “We _cannot_ lose another of our community to those things. We are ready to offer your payment in advance, so long as you free us of these things.”

 _Drowners_ , Geralt’s mind supplied. Easy pickings, especially at this time of year, when they’re cold and starving. It’s not too surprising that the people have just coexisted with them for this long, but still disappointing that too many lives have been lost to them.

His purse feels especially light. Geralt has been skimping on hunts since taking Julian, surviving on the sizable savings from years of careful rationing. A bit more coin wouldn’t hurt.

The only thing giving him pause is leaving Julian in town. More specifically, leaving Julian to his own and someone working out Julian’s lineage and harming him.

But a hunt this easy? He can be there and back within hours.

“Tell me more about these creatures.”

* * *

Geralt is back in their room when Julian stirs.

“Good morning,” Julian whispers.

A crooked little smile pulls at Geralt’s lips as he shakes his head in amusement. Julian yawns and squeaks as he stretches before standing up and moving to the table where Geralt sits. “Why are you brushing your sword?”

“I’m sharpening it.”

“Oh. Why are you sharpening it?”

Geralt finally pauses and turns to Julian. He sighs and sets her sword down before sweeping Julian onto his knee.

Julian reaches up and tangles his fingers in Geralt’s hair.

“I’m going on a hunt in the morning.”

“Like deer? For dinner?”

Geralt hummed and shook his head. “Similar. I’m going to hunt a monster, and they’re going to pay me to do it.”

“When do we leave?

A cocked eyebrow and a bit of a smirk. “You’re staying here.”

Julian’s jaw dropped, mouth wide open as he stared at Geralt in disbelief. “I _always_ go hunting with you!”

“Not this time.”

“Why?!”

“It’s dangerous,” Geralt says as patiently as he can. “You could get hurt.”

“But-!”

There’s a quiet knocking and Julian whips his head to look.

Geralt sighs and sets Julian down. He’s still sputtering and jumping as Geralt opens the door.

The kid can’t be older than sixteen. He’s tallish and quite gangly and he smells like pure fear as he stares up at Geralt with an expression that tries not to give anything away. He has a bowl in either hand and offers them up.

Geralt nods and takes them. He sets them on the table and turns back. “How much?”

“Um, it’s-”

“ _You shithead_!”

Both Geralt and the boy whip around to look at Julian. His eyes are burning bright, electric blue shining and he bares his pristine white teeth at Geralt menacingly. He’s scowling and Geralt knows the points of his ears have to be scarlet with all his stomping and hollering.

Julian launches himself at Geralt, but he’s easily swept up and tossed over his shoulder like a half bag of flour.

“ _Noooooooooooooooooo-_ ”

“How much?” Geralt asks again.

The boy’s eyes are wide before he shouts out “fourteen coppers,” in a rush.

Geralt thrusts what he knows is more than that into the boy’s hand as Julian gears up for another scream. “Keep the change.”

He slams the door shut and puts Julian on the floor again. He kneels down and looks Julian in the eye. “Stop screaming.”

“Take me with you.”

Geralt took a deep breath, pinching high on his nose to ward off the impending headache.

An angry mob storming up the stairs was the last thing Geralt needed right now, and by Julian’s murderous wails, that’s exactly where they’ll end up. At that, he’s already trying to ignore the whispers of _‘butcher_ ,’ and word about a white-haired witcher travels fast. Before long there’ll be accusations of kidnapping and murder and if they’re starting to take new students. And that’s not even touching on what they’ll accuse him of doing _to_ the boy.

“I’m sorry.”

Geralt opens his eyes and his heart immediately drops.

Julian is shifting from foot to foot, biting his lips and shaking hard. His socked foot slips a bit but he quickly finds his ground.

“I’m- hm.” Geralt slowly reaches forward and Julian flinches. _Hard_.

“I’m _sorry_! Geralt, please, I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet. I’ll be really quiet now.”

_Oh._

“Remember,” Geralt whispers quietly, “remember that first day we met? And I said that children aren’t supposed to be quiet?”

Julian nods slowly.

“I won’t take that back. Even if you started wailing this whole fucking inn down, stomped on my toes and spat in my face, _I would never hit you._ ”

There’s quiet for a few minutes as the two pause in their little standoff. Geralt relaxes every bone and muscle in his body, sliding down until he sat criss-cross-applesauce with his eyes closed.

And eventually, Julian moved.

His hands found Geralt’s and began to yank. Geralt opened his eyes and followed Julian as he grunted in an effort to haul him up to his feet.

“Food’s gonna be cold,” Julian said.

Geralt helped Julian to the chair and they ate. The sun was still bright outside, so they had a while before they had to sleep.

This time, when Geralt explains their plan, Julian doesn’t begin screaming again. He sits quietly as Geralt tells him that he’ll leave in the morning, when Julian is still sleeping. He’ll have to promise to stay in the room and Geralt will have the nice people downstairs bring him food for breakfast and lunch, then Geralt will be back by dinnertime.

“I’ll be bored,” Julian finally says at the end.

“We’ll go to town. Get some things.”

“What kinda things?”

“Fun things.”

When they finally finish, Geralt wipes Julian’s hands and mouth before helping him back into his outer clothes. Geralt takes Julian’s hat and puts it over his head, making sure his ears are completely hidden.

“I don’t like the hat,” Julian whines as they walk downstairs. He grips the banister with one hand and Geralt’s fingers with the other, walking sideways down the stairs. They get to the ground floor where it’s begun to pick up. “It’s scratchy.”

Julian moves to pull the hat off, but Geralt bats his hands off. He crouches a bit. “Itchy,” he mumbles as he pulls the hat back down firmly. “It’s itchy. You scratch because it itches.”

“I don’t like it.”

Geralt hums and brushes a bit of Julian’s fringe back. “Gotta wear it.”

“But _Geraaaaaalt_.”

“Come on.”

He doesn’t miss the strange looks thrown their way, but Geralt resolutely ignores them as he and Julian head out.

The market is close, and since it’s nearer to the end of the night it’s not nearly as busy. As Geralt searches for a good stall Julian busies himself with attempting to jump in every puddle he sees. Geralt catches him midair before he ever can, and Julian lets out loud peals of laughter every time he does that slowly get bolder and bolder.

 _He’s not scared of me,_ Geralt assures himself. _It’s just memories._

Something in him settles.

And when he finally finds a good stall, Julian’s breath hitches and he squeaks brightly. “ _Toys_?!”

The vendor, an old man with thick glasses and thin hair, gives a crooked smile as Geralt hoists Julian onto his side. “I see I ‘ave a fan.”

Julian turned to Geralt, wide eyed and vibrating in his arms as he took Geralt’s face in hand. “I get _toys_?!”

Geralt winced a bit as Julian shouted in his face, but nodded nonetheless. 

“I never got toys!” Julian squeaks. “My sisters used to let me play with their dolls, but father never let me have my own.”

Julian took no notice of the old vendor locking eyes with Geralt and them exchanging a look. He wiggled until Geralt let him down and he bounced to the counter.

“Anythin’ catchen yer eye, son?”

Geralt placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder as he pointed to a little figurine on the shelf. It was bright red and yellow, shaped in the likeness of a dragon poised to take flight. The old man reached high, grunting when he took it in hand and handed it over the counter.

When he had it in his hands, Julian gasped and ran a finger down the dragon’s snout. “Oh my _goodness_.”

Without thinking, Geralt snorted out a short laugh and smiled. Julian looked up with big, watery eyes. “This one, please.”

Geralt hummed and nodded. “Anything else?”

“I can have more than one?”

He nodded.

“I can have a million?”

Geralt bit his lip and took a moment to compose himself. The old man was cackling away as Geralt turned back. “How about three?”

“That’s basically a million.”

Julian stood on his toes, clutching the little dragon to his chest. He scanned again and again, until he saw a little doll hanging from the top of the stall. It was well stitched, donned in a plaid green dress and overalls with long blue hair to its knees.

“The little girl! Ooh, can I see the little girl?”

The old man raised a questioning brow, looking from the doll to Julian. “Ya sure, kiddo? Tha dolls are us’lly fer tha lasses-”

Behind Julian, Geralt narrowed his eyes and cocked his head in a menacing question.

“-but very popular with tha lads as well, lets get usa look ‘ere…”

When handed over, Julian immediately ran his fingers over her hair and hummed a little ditty. He then clutched her to his chest and rolled onto his toes.

“Like it?”

Julian nodded brightly and giggled. “She’s soft.” Julian sighed and put her in the crook of his arm with the dragon. “One more?”

“One more.”

With a final pass, Julian finally spotted a little brown horse near Geralt’s arm. He pointed and Geralt handed it over. Julian wiggled its legs and gasped when they moved. “Look!”

“I see,” Geralt hummed.

“It’s like Roach!”

“It is.”

“We need to show her on the way back!”

“Okay.”

Julian looked at his haul and tapped the head of each toy in one turn. “One, two, three toys like you said Geralt! Three toys and we’re done!”

“Done,” Geralt confirmed. He turned to the vendor who gazed down at the little boy with utter fondness. “How much?”

The man looked up at Geralt, then back to Julian, who he offered a beaming smile. “Well, togeth’r it’ll be abou’ thir’y-seven, bu’ it’s yer lucky day! We’re ‘aving a special, it’s buy one ge’ one free!”

Julian gave another gasp and whipped his head up to Geralt. “We’re buying three!”

“We are,” Geralt affirmed, looking towards the vendor with a question. “Lucky day.”

“Hm. Lucky indee’, boys.”

Geralt refrained from mentioning that he was likely old enough to be the man’s father and instead helping Julian pick out another three toys.

On the way back Julian refused to put a single one of his toys in the bag. Geralt carried him through town as he began to name each and every ‘new friend,’ as he called them.

“Salmon.”

“Hm?”

“The horse. That’s a fish, right?”

“Salmon is a fish.”

“Like Roach is a fish! So the horsie’s name is Salmon.” Julian shifted everything around and began from the beginning. “So the horsie is named Salmon. The pidgie-”

“Pig.”

“The piggie is called Alana. The dragon is named Johanna, because my sister Juliana always called my sister Johanna a fire breathing bitch. The little girl dolls are Flower and Petal, and the fish is called Horse.”

“Creative.”

“Thank you!”

Julian danced the toys around, at one point they all started singing. Geralt sat through the stares and hoisted Julian higher.

As they neared the end of the market, Geralt glanced over and spotted a little hut. There was nothing especially significant about it, until Geralt’s medallion began to hum.

After a start, he realized it wasn’t anything dangerous. He could smell the magic wafting from the window and watched as the woman inside ambled around.

The woman opened her door as they passed.

“Need something, witcher?”

Julian glanced up as well and offered a bright smile. “Geralt’s a witcher!”

The woman looked a bit surprised before offering a smile of her own. “I see that.” She looked over the two of them and Geralt bared his teeth. She paid no mind. “I like your toys.”

“Geralt got them for me!”

“That’s great. You have good taste.”

“Thank you!”

The witch grinned and leaned against her porch. “What business does a witcher have with a child?”

“None of your concern,” Geralt snapped.

Julian didn’t react to Geralt’s tone, not when it was directed at anyone other than himself. He picked the horse and ran it along Geralt’s arm, making little galloping noises as it went.

“Salmon wants to meet the lady.”

“Tell Salmon we’re busy.”

“But-”

“I’m free,” the witch called out with a laugh. “If you’d like to pop in for a cuppa.”

Julian whined a bit, and Geralt turned to look at him. Julian reached up and ran his hand down Geralt’s hair in the same way Geralt did to calm him down. “Please?”

That was how they found themselves inside at the witch’s table.

“Tea?” she asked.

“With honey?” Julian answered back.

She gave a little nod. “Definitely possible.”

As she turned to the pot boiling over the fire Julian plopped down on the floor at Geralt’s feet to spread his toys out around him. The pig began to jump around Geralt’s leg.

“I’m Triss,” the witch threw out easily. She made her way over and placed a cup in front of Geralt and crouched down to put one in front of Julian. “Triss Merigold.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Julian mumbled and picked up his cup.

“Thank you.”

Geralt grunted and nudged Julian’s thigh with his boot. “Careful. Might be hot.”

“Okay.” Julien sipped anyway and Geralt let out a long suffering sigh. “I’m Julian. And that’s Geralt.”

Triss smiled down and took a seat across from Geralt. “Pleasure.”

The conversation is mainly between Julian and Triss, who entertains his ramblings with a genuine smile and returned enthusiasm. Geralt watches closely, poised stiffly for a quick getaway. He’s trying to plan out how to get all six toys together in the fastest way possible in order to get out.

Triss’s hand rested on Geralt’s arm and he just resisted flinching.

“He’s a sweet boy,” she murmurs quietly.

Geralt nods.

“And I say this with no ill intent, but should anyone learn of his lineage, he won’t stand a chance.”

The blood in Geralt’s veins turned to ice.

His eyes narrowed and fists clenched until the skin of his palms threatened to break.

“ _‘Oh no Lady Petal, your skin so pale, the Great Dragon Johanna approaches, and she will put your bones up for sale!’ ‘Oh no Lady Flower, with hair blue as the sky, it’s time to run faaaaar away, and now we say goodbye!’_ ”

“I will slit your throat right here and now,” Geralt hisses near silently, “and you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”

“ _‘Roar roar_ **_roar_ ** _! Here I fly by! Oh, don’t worry ladies! Please don’t cry!’_ ”

“I can make him a glamor,” Triss continues calmly. “It’ll hide his more conspicuous features.”

“And have him getting addicted to that shit?”

“Just an illusional glamor. It won’t actually change his features, just mask them against prying eyes.”

There’s a little tug on Geralt’s trousers and he glances down. Julian points to the wall furthest from them. “What kindsa flowers are those?”

Triss looked over as well. “There are lots of kinds. Would you like to see?”

“Yes _please_.”

Geralt stood close behind them as Triss began to point out each of the flowers and their names. Julian, of course, gravitated towards the bright ones, reds and blues and oranges and yellows.

“What’s that?”

“Rose!”

“What’s that?”

“Hawthorne!”

“What’s that?”

“Merigold!”

“Like you!”

“Like me!”

“What’s that one, Geralt?”

“Hm. Yarrow.”

“What’s that one?

“Daisy!”

“What’s that one?”

“Carnation!”

“What’s that one, Geralt?”

“Hm. Poppy.”

“What’s that one?”

“Sweet pea!”

“What’s that one?”

“Buttercup!”

“It’s so pretty!”

“Would you like some?”

Julian gasped as Triss stood from where she crouched next to him and moved towards the flowers she picked three of them and handed them to Julian. “There we go.”

“ _Thank you_! Geralt, see? Do you see?!”

Geralt grunted as Julian began his newest ramble.

“We need to get going.”

There was a disappointed little sigh and Julian plopped down to gather his toys.

Triss nodded and watched as Geralt helped gather the toys and put them in a little bag he’d acquired at the market. Julian carefully scooped up his flowers from where he set them down and stood beside Geralt with cupped hands.

“Thank you Miss Triss.”

“My absolute pleasure, Julian. Geralt.”

Geralt gave a short nod and ushered Julian off towards the door.

“Think about it,” Triss calls after and Geralt shuts the door.

Later that night, after dinner and brushing teeth, Geralt sat beside Julian as he began to drift off.

“You’ll be back before dinner.”

“Yes.”

“I have to stay here.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to come back?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Geralt handed Julian his dolls and tucked the sheets around him tighter. He brushed his fingers through Julian’s hair and he hummed happily.

“Can I have my flowers?”

Julian watched Geralt take the flowers in hand and tuck them behind his ear. “They’re really pretty, aren’t they Geralt?”

“Jaskiers are common enough in spring and summer.”

There was a little noise and Julian shook his head. “Miss Triss said they’re buttercups.”

“They have two names. Buttercups and jaskiers are the same thing.”

“Oh.” Julian hummed again, his notes rising and falling as they began to resemble a song. Geralt kept brushing through his hair as Julian sighed happily.

“Today was the bestest day _ever_.”

Geralt gave Julian a small, tired smile. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

And finally, Julian’s eyes began to droop. He gripped his dolls closer and pushed himself further down the cot.

“‘Night Geralt.”

“Goodnight, little jaskier.”

* * *

The next morning, Geralt was off.

He passed the innkeeper on the way out and she gave a little nod. He pressed down the coin for Julian’s meals and headed towards the lake.

The whole way there Geralt felt a buzzing in the back of his head. He couldn’t tear his thoughts away from Julian, sitting up all alone in the room. At least he had his toys, which he’d been so ecstatic about, but there was still the _‘what if’_ thoughts plaguing Geralt all the way.

( _“Don’t take off your hat. You need it.”_

_“But why?”_

_“Because I said. I’m in charge. Keep the damn hat on.”_ )

The drowners made easy work. Geralt was quick in his dispatch of the horde, even though it was larger than anticipated. One of them caught him in the side on its way down though. They weren’t deep enough to cause real damage, they were just a bitch to deal with.

It was an hour or so after nightfall when Geralt made it back to town. He walked to the manor at the center and asked for his payment. Erald’s father was good on his word, joyful and ready to give whatever Geralt asked for.

He made a note to himself to mention this town to his brothers.

“Witcher!”

Geralt just held back a groan when he saw Triss walking towards him. He turned as she caught up and thrust a hand out.

Hesitantly, Geralt reached back and she dropped a chain in his hand, at the end of it a little round pendant.

Engraved in the center was a little buttercup.

“For your boy,” she answered. “No payment needed.”

Witches didn’t work that way. Geralt grunted and stared as Triss shifted her weight.

“Why?”

Triss shrugged and looked towards the inn. She shook her head and smiled. “Sometimes the world needs a bit more brightness. And he has one of those souls.”

“What souls?”

“That change you.”

A few more seconds pass before Triss huffs out a breath. “He’s waiting for you, I’m sure.”

“Hm.”

With a final goodbye, Triss nodded and went on her way. Geralt watched her go, disappearing into the tiny hut and the light flickering out a moment later.

The inn was booming when Geralt got back. He could hear loud, bawdy singing and the thumping of fists on the tables in time with the beat. Geralt held back a grimace as he shouldered his way through the crowd towards the staircase.

“Oh my goodness, Geralt!”

Then a tiny body was slamming into Geralt’s back, followed by very familiar giggling.

Geralt whipped around, dropping to his knees as he stared at Julian with wide eyes. “You’re supposed to be _in the room_.”

Julian bit his lip as he clung closer to Geralt. “I was! Then Miss Lelia said I should come down because children aren’t supposed to be alone!”

A few paces behind stood the pregnant barkeep, hand in hand with a taller man who began to tug her behind.

“You can’t just follow strangers everywhere!”

“But she’s got a baby in her tummy!” Julian pointed at the girl, Lelia Geralt guessed, as if that explained it. “She’s a mummy!”

Geralt took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth.

At least he was wearing his hat.

“Upstairs,” Geralt intoned quietly.

“Lemme get Alana.”

Julian rushed towards the innkeeper’s family and swiped up his toy pig. Lelia said something quickly and reached out, but he was already back at Geralt’s side and running upstairs.

When they got there, Geralt sat down on the bed with a grunt. Julian began to prattle on about something or the other and Geralt took a few breaths before peeling off his armor.

“And then Miss Ulma said _‘I bet-’_ Geralt that’s blood!”

“Hm.”

Geralt reached into his bags and pulled out a roll of bandages. He grimaced as he pulled his tunic off and set to wrapping.

They were nearly healed, anyway. No need for potions even. It’d be closed up by morning, and Geralt doubted it would even scar.

As Geralt worked, he began to notice the silence.

When he was done, Geralt could smell the tears.

His eyes snapped up until they landed on Julian, curled up at his feet with the horse and dragon and staring up with tears dripping down his cheeks.

“You got hurt.”

Julian slowly stood before making his way up to Geralt’s side on the bed. “Monsters?”

Geralt hummed and Julian let out a tiny sob.

“I’m fine,” Geralt finally said.

“You’re bleeding.”

The rest of the night was too quiet. In the past, Geralt had doubted there was such a thing, but now the silence was a gaping echo around them.

Dinner was delivered, and it was still quiet.

As Geralt prepared to lay Julian down, he squirmed and held fast to Geralt’s hand. “Can… can I sleep with you, please?”

Geralt said nothing.

“I won’t kick or anything. And, and just tonight. Please? I don’t wanna sleep alone.”

There was no way for Geralt to figure out how to say no.

Julian climbed in with a happy little noise beside Geralt. He had his softer toys in hand as he laid down and sighed.

“Here.”

Geralt pulled out the necklace Triss gave him and put it in Julian’s hand. “What is it?”

“Hm. A gift. From Triss.”

Little fingers rolled the metal pendant in Julian’s palm as he traced the engraving in the faint candlelight. He smiled. “Jaskiers.”

Julian pulled the chain over his head and settled back down.

“Don’t take it off. Ever.”

“Why?”

As he glanced up, Geralt noted the clear difference from before. Julian’s eyes, while still bright, had dimmed considerably into something more human. Through his hair, the light around Julian’s ear waved, like a mirage, before the points fell back into a round half-circle. When he smiled, his canines had sharpened ever so slightly, like a human’s.

“You know how I make you wear the hat?”

“The scratchy hat.”

“Itchy,” Geralt corrects without thinking.

“The scratchy hat that makes my head itchy.”

Sometimes, Geralt had to choose his battles.

“If you wear this, you don’t need the hat.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ugh.”

Geralt smiled and shook his head fondly. “Don’t take it off. It’s rude to not wear Triss’s present.”

“It is?”

“Mm.”

“Okay. I’ll wear it.”

Julian plays with the necklace for a moment before reaching out and touching Geralt’s medallion. He traces the wolf’s head and makes little growling sounds when he does.

“Whysit a wolf?”

Geralt shrugged and let Julian play. He slid the chain from around his neck and let Julian hold it. “Because I’m from the Wolf School.”

“You went to school?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Witcher school?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Miss Lelia said she went to a school house when she was little. She can read, but she can’t write. Can you write?”

“Hm. Yes.” Then, Geralt sighed. “You can’t follow strangers around. It’s dangerous.”

Julian huffed and looked up. “Why?”

“There are _bad people_ , Julian.” Geralt took his medallion back and forced him to look up. “And they don’t care that you’re a child. They could hurt you.”

“I don’t follow everyone around,” Julian huffed, chest rising as he stares indignantly. “I know there’s bad people. There were lots of bad people at home.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Geralt glosses over it for now. “If you know, then why do you do it?”

“I can…” Julian furrows his eyebrows and shrugs. “I can _feel_ it. If someone feels ugly or bad. I can feel it in my heart.”

Geralt tries to process that.

“Can you hear what they think?”

“No.” Julian reaches out, pokes Geralt’s chest gently. “I can _feel it_.”

Julian grows irritable, huffing and squirming until Geralt lays a hand on his head. Julian immediately calms and leans in closer.

When Julian begins to burrow into Geralt’s side, he can’t exactly shove him off. So he lets him, and when Julian’s head rests over Geralt’s slow heartbeat, his muscles untense and they let him sink down lower into the bed.

“S’why I found you in the woods,” Julian mumbled through a yawn. “Bright.”

It’s not long until the candlelight burns out and the two of them finally succumb to sleep.

* * *

The village is just as Geralt remembered it.

Julian ( _“_ **_Jaskier_ ** _, Geralt. My name is_ **_Jaskier_ ** _now, like you called me before! You called me a little jaskier, so now I’m Jaskier!”_ ) sat behind him as always, arms around his waist and clinging on in a way that would be uncomfortably tight if Geralt were human. As it is, Julian shoves his nose into Geralt’s back and runs his fingers along the little bumps and ridges in his armor.

Before walking through town, Geralt paid the stable to house Roach for the night. He could ride her to the house, but he’d rather Roach be warm and well taken care of.

The boy, who Geralt vaguely recognized from times past, gave a jaunty little salute as he and Julian went on their way.

As they leave, Julian takes Geralt’s hand in both of his and gives a firm squeeze. When Geralt looks down Julian’s arms are up and his fingers and wiggling violently towards his face.

“I’m not going to carry you.”

“Please?”

And, well, Geralt of Rivia had never claimed to be a strong-willed man.

The gravel and snow crunch underfoot as they make their way through town. Geralt had been to this particular village many a time before, and one could even consider him friends to a few of its residents. He sees a young couple running around their garden together (Elana and Yousef, Geralt remembers. Recalls their engagement a year or so prior) and they spot him. Elana squeals and flaps her arms wildly in something resembling a greeting. Her nails are long and red, stark against the rich darkness of her skin and blinding white of the snow behind her. Yousef calls a _“Ho there, Witcher! Couldny get enough of us, eh?”_ and tackles his wife into the snowdrift behind them.

Normally, Geralt would expect Julian to be hollering right along with them, begging to be let down so he could run around with everyone else. But he stays right where he is, barely peeking out from where he’s hidden his face in Geralt’s neck to watch the two of them wrestle one another on the ground.

In a way, Geralt understood. With every step he took, there was a resonating thud in his own chest, his breath rattling harshly with every inhale. Geralt thought his bones had come loose, falling apart and dropping one by one to the bottom of his stomach where they lay hard and heavy and _empty_ . Everything was _empty_.

Geralt’s arms tightened around Julian’s back. Julian squeezed back.

At the end of the road, they came upon the house.

It was the same as it had been before, give or take a dozen little snowmen scattered about the yard - and one gigantic snowman, great Melitele it was _huge_.

“Is that the Great Geralt of Rivia I see coming up the hill, or have I finally lost my marbles?”

Geralt had to tamp down the grin that threatened to overtake him. From out the front door came Issa, tall and proud as ever even covered in flour and an old, stained apron. Her bright red curls were even wilder than Geralt remembered, reaching far lower than her hips and filling a space twice the size of her.

“Issa,” Geralt grunted in greeting. “How do you fair?”

“I’m well!” Issa gave a bright grin and tossed a chunk of her over her shoulder. “Keeping busy, of cou- _Geralt of Rivia is that a baby_?”

Julian finally shifted a bit, but instead of turning to look he tried to burrow himself further into Geralt.

“Say hello.”

“No.”

Geralt’s brow shot up as he attempted to shift Julian around and get a better look at him. A reprimand was at the tip of his tongue, but thankfully Issa didn’t show any offence.

“Oh, a shy one, isn’t he?” Geralt wanted to combat that, Julian was literally the furthest thing possible from _shy_ , but Issa merely gave a little giggle and brushed her hands on her apron.”Well, come on down from that horse and come inside! Grace and the little ones are in town, but they should be home soon.”

The house was a bit messy, but after having a child as his ward for these past weeks, Geralt wouldn’t dare say a word of it. Issa fussed a bit over the table in the kitchen and made a place for three of the chairs.

Geralt tried to put Julian down on a chair, but he outright refused. When Geralt began to yank Julian honest-to-gods _whined_ before taking great fistfulls of Geralt’s hair and held on as if his life depended on it.

With a great sigh Geralt decided that this was not going to be a battle he would win and instead sat with Julian in his lap. The boy, on his part, seemed immensely pleased with this turn of events and Geralt heard his heartbeat calm back down.

Geralt tried not to feel pleased with himself.

“Hungry? Thirsty?”

Geralt hummed and absently ran a hand down Julian’s back. “Some water, if it isn’t any trouble.”

“Of course!”

Issa turned towards a pitcher on the floury countertop and grabbed three cups. She placed two in front of Geralt and Julian and sat across from them with a smile.

“What’s the little one’s name?”

Julian’s hands tugged a bit and he resettled in Geralt’s lap.

“Julian,” Geralt answered gruffly.

“Jaskier.”

“ _Ah_!” Issa squealed. “He speaks!”

Julian huffed and finally looked towards Issa. She gave a mischievous little grin and tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. “My name’s Issa. And yours is… Jaskier, then?”

“N-”

“Yes,” Julian was quick to cut in. He gave Geralt’s arm a tiny pinch before pulling it across the top of his chest. Geralt rolled his eyes but pulled Julian closer. “Not Julian.”

“Well, I think Jaskier is a _fine_ name. Like jaskier flowers.”

“Mm-hm.”

“My daughter, her name is Holly. She’s named after a flower as well. My other one’s called Cecelia, but she likes Cece best. How old are you?”

Julian hesitates, quieting again.

If Geralt was honest, he’d been so sure that Julian and Issa would get along famously. With how much Julian liked to ramble, he’d thought he’d be ecstatic to talk to someone who did the same. But he only seemed to draw further into himself.

Well, into _Geralt_ , more accurately.

“Six,” Geralt finally answered.

Issa didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by Julian’s sudden onset introvertedness. “Oh, a _lovely_ age! Just about Cece’s year then! She’ll be six in a month. Holly’s about two years older, but she’s the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet.”

It goes a lot like this for a bit, Issa and Geralt trying to pry reactions from Julian and failing spectacularly. Every attempt to move him ends with another little crisis and Geralt giving in like the sucker he was.

Soon enough, their conversation is cut short with the slamming of the front door and the delighted screams of little girls. Julian jumps as their shoes pit-pat on the floor, followed by the lower tones of their other mother’s voice trying to calm them down.

“Ma! Ma, we’re home!”

“Oh, my _babies_!”

Issa drops to the floor on her knees just in time for two children to launch themselves into her arms. Issa coos and laughs as the girls’ voices struggle against one anothers’ to talk about their day.

“Alright there Witcher?”

Geralt stands, still with Julian clinging ‘round his neck, and meets Grace’s outstretched arm with his own.

Grace grins and brushes her long, inky black hair behind one shoulder. She’s quite a bit taller than Issa, almost matching Geralt’s height even, and broader about the shoulders than one expects of a woman.

Though intimidating to others, Geralt feels a bit more comfortable around Grace as she gives an easy grin, the corner of her top lip’s bow pulling oddly around the scar there.

Grace also doesn’t expect Geralt to speak, which is a blessing.

Her eyes lock on Julian and she gives Geralt a questioning look.

“Hm. Julian.”

“ _Jaskier_ ,” Julian huffs indignantly. “Jas- _kier._ ”

Grace shakes her head fondly, but doesn’t try to pry any more out of him.

“Hi Geralt!”

“Hey Geralt! Did ya see our snowmen outside? Didja _see_? Mum did the giant one, she says she did it with magic, but I bet she’s lying.”

Grace walks by, flicking Holly’s hair before helping Issa up from the ground. “I’m not a liar.”

“That’s _exactly_ what a liar would say!”

“Magic’s real,” Cecelia murmurs quietly.

“Obviously,” Holly rolls her eyes.

As she finally looks closer, Holly seems to finally process Julian sitting in Geralt’s lap. She gives an indignant little huff, strides closer and gives a harsh poke to Julian’s side. “Move _over_.”

Julian’s heart picks back up, but Holly is climbing up the chair and into Geralt’s lap before anyone can react. There’s a sharp _“Holly!”_ and _“Holly Elaine get your arse here_ **_now_ ** _,”_ but she’s quickly settled with her face nose-to-nose with Geralt’s.

If this had happened a few weeks before, Geralt probably would’ve been more uncomfortable than he was now. As it happened, Julian had begun to break down his desensitization to touch from their first meeting on. Even Holly’s sticky, grubby little hands clawing at Geralt’s tunic hardly fazed him.

Besides, Geralt had known Holly since she was small. It was hardly like some stranger would come up and lose their shit, not with someone else's child, not in the privacy of their home.

“What have you been doing?”

Geralt looked to her mothers, both of which seem to have calmed when Geralt didn’t freak out or ask her to get off. He looked back at Holly, shoving at Julian in an attempt to get closer.

In response Geralt shifted the children around, moving Holly so she sat on one thigh and Julian sat on the other.

Julian’s breathing spiked and he began to feel hot.

“Hm. Hunting.”

“Animals?”

“He’s a witcher, Holly,” Cecelia huffed out. She rolls her eyes in a way nearly identical to Grace. “He hunts _monsters_.”

“What kinda monsters?”

“Hm. Big.”

Holly pouts and whips her head around. Her long, thin braids smack across Geralt’s arm and Julian’s side. “Big like the snowman outside?”

“Yes.”

“That’s _so_ cool.”

“You know what would be even _more_ cool?” Issa jumps in loudly. “Maybe you and Cece can show Julian around the house and outside!”

Julian tenses sharply in Geralt’s arms and shakes his head minutely.

The girls begin to squeal and talk over each other, trying to get Julian’s attention.

“Julian,” Geralt says gently, yet insistently. He nudges at Julian and starts to put him on the ground. “Go on.”

Julian looks like he wants to protest more, but reluctantly goes to trudge forwards. Holly immediately takes one of Julian’s hands in hers and they run off in a flurry of skirts and screeches.

“So…” Grace begins slowly. She sits down across from Geralt and Issa plops down on her lap with a smile. “What’s with the kid?”

Geralt can still hear the kids easily in the garden. He hears Julian say something, and the girls begin to pry him into talking. Geralt’s able to relax a bit.

He gets along with the girls. Geralt worried that he wouldn’t, but it seemed to just be a bit of shyness.

“A few years ago I claimed the Law of Surprise. Julian, ah, was the surprise.”

Neither woman made any reaction, Grace only nodding along and Issa tapping her fingers on her knee.

“What are you going to do with him?” Issa finally asks.

“... I recall you two mentioning adopting a son.”

There’s a chasm low in Geralt’s stomach. It’s gravity is pulling everything down, his heart, his lungs - Geralt’s very _bones_ rattle and thrum as he watches a myriad of emotions cross over their faces.

“We-” Grace clears her throat and her arm snakes itself around her wife’s waist. “We di- we _are_... looking into that, that is.”

Issa’s eyes volley between the two.

“I had no intention of claiming him,” Geralt continued gruffly.

( _Could they hear the strain in his voice? Could they see behind his eyes, into his head? Issa looked like she might._ ) 

“But when I found myself in town, Julian’s father was far from kind or caring. I couldn’t, in good faith, leave him there.”

“And you thought of us.”

“You’re good mothers,” Geralt finished lamely.

Julian let out a high laugh in the garden.

(Geralt wanted to _scream_.)

“Thank you,” Issa said after a long, uncomfortable pause. “We love our daughters. More than anything. And… should we find ourselves in the company of a son, we would love him just as fiercely.”

Geralt grunted in affirmation.

His eyes fell from Issa’s and landed somewhere at her feet.

And the _world…_


	2. Chapter 2

The world around Geralt crumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

The night after Geralt and Julian departed from Issa and Grace’s town found them in a small inn just within the borders of Kaedwen. Geralt acquired a room easily enough, and after dinner downstairs, they headed up for dinner.

Julian had been quiet ever since they left Issa and Grace’s house, especially so during dinner as well. 

They made quick work of brushing their teeth and Geralt ran a cloth over Julian’s face and hands. He lit the fire and pulled out Julian’s sleeping clothes.

Geralt sat him on the smaller of the beds and began to slide off his boots and coat.

“Warm?”

“Yes.”

When Julian was dressed for bed he quietly laid down and stared up at Geralt. His fingers found the pendant on his chest and he gripped it tight.

“Geralt?”

“Mm.”

Geralt knelt beside Julian where he lay and began to pull the sheets up over him.

“Did Issa and Grace not want me?”

Geralt’s hands faltered as rested beside Julian’s arm. He looked over impassively, seeing Julian still staring at him, as if Geralt would finally reveal some huge secret.

“I…” 

A few moments passed and Geralt reached up to pass his hand over Julian’s hair.

“Geralt?”

“Hm.” Geralt’s hand rested on Julian’s cheek. “You won’t be staying with them.”

“Why?”

Julian’s hand rested over Geralt’s.

“Would you- do you want to go back?”

“ _ No _ .”

Julian’s other hand met where they touched on his cheek, moving to grip Geralt’s wrist in a hold far too tight for a child to need. His nails dig into the skin below his sleeve, but Geralt doesn’t pull away.

“Then you won’t.”

“Where am I to go, then?”

And  _ how _ was Geralt to explain this? How was Geralt to tell Julian, this incredible, sweet,  _ amazing _ boy that he had no intention of letting him go? Gods, how could Geralt tell Julian what a selfish, disgusting  _ bastard _ he was, to force this child into the life of a witcher? Always travelling, never making friends or having a true home?

Julian would  _ never _ have a normal life now. Never a good life, never two loving parents at home, no friends next door or Sunday dinners or brothers and sisters to tease and chase around the garden.

Because Geralt was a weak-willed, selfish  _ monster _ who had finally learned what it was like to not be alone anymore.

“With me.”

A beat.

Then, with a speed Geralt had no idea Julian possessed, he whipped off Geralt’s arm and launched himself forward into his chest.

Geralt grunted and fell back, too taken aback to find his balance and landed with a dull thud on his back.

Julian’s arms had a stranglehold around Geralt’s neck and as Geralt sat up Julian’s legs wrapped around his torso and his ankles locked together behind his back.

And then Geralt registered the crying.

There were tears soaking into Geralt’s skin and hair just behind his ear, Julian’s hiccuping sobs loud between high, keening cries as he gripped onto Geralt for dear life.

“ _ Julian _ ,” Geralt finally murmured, his arms coming around him as well. His heart was thumping nearly as fast as Julian’s and everything was  _ hot _ , too hot, there was a burning behind Geralt’s eyes he recognized but didn’t fully register, an ache high in his nose as Julian continued crying loudly in his ear, hands scrambling at his back and eventually landing on the hair at the bottom of Geralt’s head.

“Ju-”

“You’re no-not making me g-go?”

Geralt gaped as Julian stuttered as quickly as he could. He finally pulled back, his face bright red and nose running hotly. He sniffed and his hands came ‘round to rest on either of Geralt’s cheeks. “Pr-promise? Geralt, promise you won’t let go?”

Geralt couldn’t give Julian a good life. He knew that. He knew Julian would always want for something, would have needs that Geralt wouldn’t be able to fulfill. He  _ knew _ this.

Julian would always want something.

But he would never,  _ ever _ , want for love.

“I promise.”


End file.
